


Lifeblood

by ellijay



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 09:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8573521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellijay/pseuds/ellijay
Summary: SG-1 encounters a group of aliens, one of whom extends a very unusual and potentially lethal gesture of friendship. Set after the third season episode “Legacy.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old story, written back when SG-1 was new and shiny. I’m reposting it now mainly to have all of my fic in one place, but also in the hopes that it finds new readers or maybe makes its way back to previous readers who might want to reminisce. This story was originally published under another name, but I’m still me, many years of life experience notwithstanding, and the title and contents of the story are the same.
> 
> (Original Author’s Notes: Thanks to Scribe and Dee Tervo for their input and encouragement. You guys are the best!)

“Whoa!”  The exclamation burst out of Daniel’s mouth only seconds after the first image from the MALP on P453T9 came through.  That was as long as it took for his brain to translate what he was seeing and send repeated signals to his mouth until his mouth finally managed to produce a sound.

Just about anything might turn up on any given planet, and he always got a little thrill of expectation just before that first image came through.  This time, though, the thrill was accompanied by a shiver knitting its way across his shoulders.  The MALP had emerged from the wormhole to find itself butted right up against some kind of stone slab.  A single glyph, illuminated by what seemed to be natural daylight, filled the lens of the forward camera.  Daniel swallowed the knot of unease that was bunching up in the back of his throat and turned to look at Jack.

Jack was staring at the screen with an intensity that could only mean he didn’t much care for what he was seeing either.  He waved his hand towards the monitor and said, “Now, maybe I’m just being a little bit paranoid, but does anyone else think that looks like it was written in blood?”

Daniel turned back towards the glyph and swallowed again before answering.  “Hard to say for sure, but given what the glyph means…  It’s Goa’uld – the symbol for death.”

“Whoa,” Sam piped in.

“I think Daniel already said that,” Jack said very quietly, the expected twist of sarcasm noticeably absent from his voice.

Sam didn’t respond to Jack’s remark, instead turning her attention to the technician seated at the MALP controls.  “Switch to the rear camera and see if you can pan around so we can have a look at the rest of that rock.”

The video image flipped over to a screenful of rippling blue ‘Gate surface.  As the camera began to slowly swivel in response to the tech’s prodding at the controls, Daniel could see that the MALP had barely managed to clear the event horizon.  The edge of the ‘Gate slid across the screen at a sharp angle, and now there was a view across an open field, visible through the space of several feet between the ‘Gate and the stone slab.  On the other side of the field was a jumble of jagged rocks perhaps ten or fifteen feet tall, partially obscured by vines and creepers.

“Wait.  Stop there,” he said, pointing at the rocks, a twinge of recognition stirring at the back of his brain.  “Zoom in on that.”  The image enlarged, blurry at first, then coming back into focus.  Yes.  He was right.  Not just rocks.  Artifacts.  “Ruins.  Abandoned for quite some time judging from the growth of the vegetation.  OK, keep panning.  Stop.”  The first of the glyphs on the upper lefthand edge of the stone slab came into view, but due to the tight angle and the large size of the writing, only a few glyphs at a time were captured on the monitor.  “Yep, definitely Goa’uld.”  Didn’t matter how many times he’d said that name – it still made him want to spit or cross himself or something, some sign of warding.  He wasn’t superstitious, though, not really.  Okay, maybe a little.  He looked down at the tech.  “You’ll need to pan _down_ the rows so I can read it.  Not across.”

“I know,” the tech mumbled, intent on his manipulation of the camera angle.

_Oh.  Right._   Sometimes it was easy for Daniel to forget the SGC had been dealing with the Goa’uld for a long enough time now that practically everyone associated with the project had picked up at least a smattering of facts about Goa’uld culture.  Usually the points that got the most attention were those related to technology, weaponry and military tactics, but there were more than a few, apart from the other linguists assigned to the project, who had picked up a bit of the language, certainly enough to know it was read top to bottom instead of left to right.

He briefly considered an apology, but was distracted by the contents of the video monitor.  He automatically began identifying the glyphs and translating them into possible English equivalents.  As he tried to string them together into phrases and sentences, though, he found to his surprise it was just a muddle of seemingly unrelated words.  “Wait.  Stop.  This isn’t making any sense.  Go back to the top again.”  His eyes skimmed over the three vertical glyphs that were visible in the frame.  He was trying very hard not to think about Jack’s comment about blood.  Not that he was particularly squeamish where blood was concerned, but it occurred to him that if these glyphs had been here since the adjacent town had been abandoned, they must’ve been renewed repeatedly to keep them looking so fresh.

He refocused his attention on the glyphs themselves.  No, he hadn’t mistaken them.  The translations were correct.  The words just didn’t fit together.  Encoded maybe?  He adjusted his glasses and leaned a little closer.  Wait a minute.  The translation didn’t make any sense if you read the symbols top to bottom, but right to left looked a little more promising, judging from the handful of glyphs running across and off the right edge of the screen.  “Pan over to the right.”  The tech looked up at him briefly in confusion, then shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the controls.

Yes.  Okay, this was making more sense.  He leaned over the tech in search of something to write with and was mildly surprised to find Teal’c at his side, holding out a pencil and a pad of paper.  He mumbled a distracted thanks and returned his attention to the translation.  It was a bit difficult to write standing up with the video screen somewhere around waist level, so he looked up again in search of something to sit on.  This time Sam was standing there, a neutral expression on her face and her hands on the back of a wheeled chair that she pushed towards him without comment.  He raised an eyebrow at her as he took the chair and settled himself onto it, but she still didn’t say anything.  She was just looking at him, a hint of amusement bleeding through her carefully composed expression.  And Jack… wasn’t there.  “Where did Jack go?”

Sam folded her arms across her chest.  She looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.  “Went to get some coffee.”

“Oh.”  That made sense.  Jack rarely had the patience to hang around when intent staring and equally intense thinking was the order of business for the other people in the room.

“Don’t worry,” Sam added, and she finally did crack a smile.  “He said he’d bring you a cup.”

“Oh.  Okay.  Good.  That’s very… thoughtful… of him.”  He stared at her for a few seconds longer, until she made a little spinning gesture with one finger and pointed towards the video screen, then seated herself in front of an adjacent console.  She turned away from him and began bringing up data from the probe’s other instruments.  He shook his head and returned to the translation, a stray thought flittering across the edge of his mind that it took an entirely different set of skills to interpret human interaction than it did to decipher the most complex of foreign or alien languages.

* * * * *

_Damn._  Daniel shoved his glasses back up his nose as he entered the conference room. He was late for the briefing.  Again.  And all the coffeepots in the mess hall had been empty when he swung by there on the way over.  He muttered an apology in Hammond’s general direction as he tossed a pile of notes onto the table and kept right on going over to the coffeepots on the side table.  Thank God.  A fresh pot of regular.  He sloshed the steamy liquid into his mug and made the mistake of taking a gulp before it even occurred to him to allow it to cool.  Great.  Now he’d have to talk around a burned tongue.  He took his seat and set the mug carefully out of range so he wouldn’t accidentally take another drink before the temperature of the coffee dropped somewhere below scorching.

“So.”  He looked around the table, at Jack, Teal’c, Sam, Hammond – all looking back at him.  “What’d I miss?”

Jack raised an eyebrow at him.  “Your cue?”  He gestured at the pile of papers in front of Daniel.

“Oh.  Right.  Well, it’s not as bad as we thought.  It may actually even be a good thing.”  He paused, glancing down at his notes.

“So are you going to explain how it is that ‘death’ – written in Goa’uld, no less – is a good thing?”  Jack was tapping his pencil on the table as he spoke.  Definitely would be a wise move to get right to the point.

“It’s a good thing because the inscription wasn’t written by a Goa’uld.  The left to right orientation of the symbols instead of the usual top to bottom was a clue to that, but the content of the message proves even more definitively that someone else wrote it.  It’s a warning to the Goa’uld not to return to the planet, the ‘death’ part being a threat for the Goa’uld.”

“Oh, I like it.”  The tap-tap of the pencil paused momentarily.  “Anyone who makes death threats against the Goa’uld is a friend of mine.  Nice touch with the blood, too.”

“Um, we can’t be sure the message really is written in blood until we get a sample to analyze,” Daniel pointed out.  “It could be some sort of ink or dye, possibly juice from a local berry or other plant source.”

Jack shrugged.  “If you say so.”

Daniel looked at Jack for a moment, not sure how to respond, but then shook his head slightly and moved ahead to his next point.  “In any event, the inscription very clearly states the inhabitants of the planet rebelled against the Goa’uld who had enslaved them, but they didn’t bury their ‘Gate like the Ancient Egyptians did on Earth.  In fact, part of the message offers safe passage and unrestricted use of the Stargate to peaceful travelers who do nothing to – uh, let me get the exact translation – ‘to disturb the harmony of the life we have chosen, the ways we have won at such a high price, the past we commemorate in blood.’”  He paused and looked up at Jack, whose expression was decidedly smug.  “Okay, so maybe it is blood, but it’s probably symbolic, maybe from an animal sacrifice of some sort.”

Jack now had the pencil between his index and middle finger and was jiggling it back and forth.  He lifted one shoulder and tilted his head to the side.  “Okay, granted.”  He tossed the pencil down onto the table and leaned forward, lacing his fingers together in front of him.  “But the bottom line is, these guys kicked the Goa’uld off their planet.  Sounds like a prime candidate for a potential ally to me.”

Hammond nodded.  “I agree.  Teal’c, have you ever heard anything about this planet?”

Teal’c paused, considering the question.  “I recall no references to this planet, but it is likely that if the Goa’uld are indeed intimidated by the inhabitants, they would not speak of it to anyone outside of their own ranks.  Perhaps not even among themselves.”

“This is sounding better and better all the time,” Jack commented.

Hammond turned to Sam.  “Major Carter, have you analyzed the conditions on the planet?”

“Yes, Sir.  Local conditions are all well within acceptable parameters for human tolerance.  No special survival gear needed.”

“All right then.  SG-1, you have a go to attempt to contact the inhabitants of this planet and determine if they would be interested in a possible alliance against the Goa’uld.  If you’re successful, SG-5 will take over to initiate diplomatic negotiations.  Good luck.  Dismissed.”

* * * * *

Jack’s insistence that the team wear helmets for this mission had Daniel a bit puzzled and slightly annoyed.  He hated the damn things.  His was always managing to slide askew on his head, no matter how tightly he strapped it on.  He couldn’t even get a hat to stay put on his head for the most part.  Jack hadn’t offered an explanation, just said to trust him on this one.  Daniel had been tempted to raise an objection.  They hardly ever wore helmets since they didn’t make a bit of difference against the kind of energy weapons they were likely to encounter.  Just one more piece of klunky equipment to tote around.  Jack had silenced him with a raised finger.  There was a time when Daniel would’ve ignored that finger, but now he knew that unless he was ready to get into a shouting match, it was better just to shut up and do what Jack said.  He’d learned the wisdom of picking his fights.

As soon as the ‘Gate spewed him out on the other end, the need for helmets became painfully clear.  He smacked right into the stone slab, his head hitting the surface with only slightly less force than his shoulder.  Some mathematical tinkering on a level he hadn’t the patience to comprehend had mostly compensated for the ‘Gate’s nasty habit of tossing travellers out the other side, but they still did get the occasional rough ride – sort of like the old girl was cranky after being woken up after a long sleep and still liked to kick them around a bit for it.

“Ow.”  Daniel readjusted his glasses, which had been knocked awry on his face by the impact.  He was only slightly mollified by the thump of two more bodies hitting the rock beside him.  Jack had gone through first and had either already peeled himself off the wall or hadn’t been thrown as hard as the rest of them.  Probably the former.  Daniel had never known the ‘Gate to be particular about who it tossed and who it didn’t.

Teal’c bounced right back off the wall and landed lightly on his feet, looking every bit like he’d casually strolled through the ‘Gate.  Sam seemed to be just as plastered to the wall as Daniel was, but Jack stepped forward and offered one hand to each of them.  A moment of rubbing at sore spots, helmets exchanged for hats or bare heads, a final readjustment to their gear, and they moved out.


	2. Chapter 2

Daniel was beginning to get more than a little frustrated.  In three hours of tramping across rolling grasslands lightly wooded with the ubiquitous clumps of mixed pine and hardwood trees, they’d found absolutely no sign of anything that could even remotely be called civilization apart from the burned-out husk of the Goa’uld city near the ‘Gate.  No buildings, no roads, no paths other than what Teal’c had deemed to be nothing more than animal tracks.  Just the buzz of insects in air warmed to summer temperatures by a pair of suns, the rustle of a light wind through grasses and leaves, and the chirping of birds in the patches of woodland.

If there were still people here, they could be hiding.  Maybe they were even more isolationist than the inscription at the ‘Gate indicated.  It was obvious they wouldn’t stand for Goa’uld tramping around their planet, but the part about safe passage had suggested SG-1 might be welcomed in some fashion.  Maybe the message really boiled down to “don’t bother us, and we won’t bother you.”

The suns were drawing closer to the horizon, and Daniel was sure Jack would call the mission off any moment now.  Under other circumstances, Jack might’ve done so before now, but he seemed so convinced the people here would be valuable allies.  He might be right, but that didn’t count for very much if they couldn’t find anyone to actually negotiate with.

Up yet another hillock, grasses slapping against his knees.  Daniel bowed his head and yanked the brim of his hat down a little further, hoping to block out the rays of the lowering suns.  He almost walked smack into Sam’s back and didn’t even have a chance to apologize before she yanked him down to the ground.

They’d found what they were looking for.

He stared slack-jawed for what must’ve been a full minute before he was able to gather his wits enough to dig his binoculars out of his pocket to get a better look.

They were… beautiful.  There was no other word he could think of, in any language he knew either fluently or superficially, that described them more perfectly than that one word.  Beautiful.  And all of the related meanings and textures and layers – exquisite, compelling, awe-inspiring, elegant.  Harmonious even in their silence, graceful even in their stillness.

They were tall, sleek and muscular, with long, three-jointed arms.  Their legs, although they had a single joint midway down like human legs, seemed to be able to bend either forwards or backwards.  Ranged along the slopes of the valley below, they were posed in various postures, most of which would’ve been impossible for a human to duplicate.

Their skin was mottled brown and green, and were it not for the film of iridescence that flowed over every part of their bodies, they might’ve blended perfectly into the tall grasses that swirled down the valley.  Their glistening faces were raised in near perfect unison towards the setting of double suns, the scattering of clouds above the horizon reflecting every color of flame imaginable.

Their heads were crowned with fascinating patterns of bony ridges and swirls of earthy pigment, a fractal landscape of asymmetric perfection laid out in living flesh and bone.  Yes, beautiful – exotic, hypnotic, yet somehow terrifying simply because of their extreme strangeness.

Some of them were standing or sitting alone, while others were grouped in pairs or larger clusters, sometimes merely in close proximity to one another, sometimes touching, sometimes twined together like the contorted beauty of Rodin sculptures.  There was a ponderous sense of quiet meditation about them, disturbed only by the occasional shifting of a grouping, the adjustment of the position of a limb, a drawing together or pulling apart from another one of their kind.  The movements were infrequent and slight, almost as if they were simply stirring in their sleep, flickers of light gliding along oddly muscled appendages.

“Well, this is certainly… different.”  Leave it to Jack to turn understatement into an artform.  Then again, maybe he was just being precise in his own way.  “Okay, campers, any suggestions?”

Daniel lowered his binoculars and glanced over to Teal’c and Sam where they were hunkered down near the ground on his left.  Teal’c raised an eyebrow and Sam just shrugged her shoulders, so Daniel turned back to Jack and said, “Maybe we should try to move in a little closer, see if we can make contact.”  It was a simple suggestion, nothing fancy, but somehow it was very unappealing to him.  He couldn’t figure out if he was actually afraid of these creatures or simply unwilling to disturb the poised beauty of their silence.

Jack pushed his hat back on his head and squinted up at the sky.  “Not much daylight left.”  He paused, then looked back over at his team members.  “Is it just me, or is anyone else getting the creeps?”

Daniel looked over at Teal’c and Sam again.  Teal’c was frowning, and Sam nodded very slightly.  Really, the thing that was giving Daniel the creeps was the fact that Jack had suddenly gone from gung-ho about tracking down new allies to ready to call a retreat just as they’d found their potential new friends.

Daniel wouldn’t have necessarily picked the phrase “getting the creeps” to describe his reaction to the aliens, but he was certainly… disturbed.  Fascinated in an uncomfortable sort of way.  Okay, close enough for government work.  He turned back towards Jack and raised his hand, waggling his fingers to add his vote in the affirmative.

“I guess it’s unanimous, then.”  Jack jerked his hat firmly back down onto his head and adjusted his grip on his rifle.  “Let’s head back to the ‘Gate.  We can regroup and reevaluate, maybe bring a UAV through to launch from this side to gather a little more intel on these guys.  _Then_ we can think about coming back.”

Daniel pushed himself up onto his knees and looked down to stash his binoculars in a pocket.  He was just about to rebutton the pocket when he suddenly got the distinct feeling he was being watched by something that wasn’t human.  He looked up very slowly and saw the blinking flash of hundreds of pairs of upwards slanting, silvery eyes, the dark slash of vertical pupils gazing cat-like toward him and the rest of SG-1.  “Uh, Jack,” he said, reaching over to tug on the other man’s sleeve.  “I think they’ve seen us.”

Jack’s answer was the click of the safety being flicked off on his rifle.  Sam followed suit a bare second later, and Daniel heard the almost subliminal whine of Teal’c’s staff weapon powering up.  He thought it might be a good idea to draw his gun too, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than stare back into that sea of alien awareness.

It took a moment for him to realize they were moving – swiftly, with fluid grace and easy, loping strides that barely disturbed the tall grasses.  Like upright serpents slithering across a field.  It was astonishing how quickly they moved, too quickly for Daniel to react beyond registering stunned amazement.  He heard Jack calling for his team to fall back, but he couldn’t move.  His knees may as well have been fused to the ground.  He couldn’t recall ever having seen anything so completely awe-inspiring and utterly terrifying as that rolling mass of alien flesh, threatening to overwhelm them.

Retreat turned out to be impossible in any event.  The aliens were too quick, too well coordinated.  They flowed around and pulled up just short of SG-1, leaving a perfect circle of waving grasses vacant around the team.  Daniel craned his head around, observing that Jack, Sam and Teal’c had assumed defensive postures, their backs turned to one another, weapons facing outwards, slow steps bringing them closer to him until they were all in a tight little knot at the center of gently stirring greenness ringed by staring silver.

“All right, Daniel,” Jack said very quietly, “you got your wish for a closer look.  Now how about making nice-nice with the natives?”

“Oookay.”  He swallowed hard and very slowly pried his knees up off the ground, keeping his hands in front of him, palms upward to show he wasn’t holding anything.  Empty hands were as close to a universal sign of peace as he could think of.  Under other circumstances, he might’ve added a smile, but the aliens didn’t have anything he could see that approximated a mouth – just the two eyes on either side of a ridge running vertically down their faces.  The ridge was perforated with a series of small holes – some sort of respiratory organ?  He guessed the long, slanting folds down both sides of their heads might be auditory organs, or maybe he was being too anthropomorphic in his deductions.

He swallowed, took a slow, deep breath.  “Hello.  We’re explorers from the planet Earth.  I’m Daniel,” he pointed to himself, “and this is Jack, Teal’c and Sam.”  He made a generic wave back over his shoulder, figuring they could straighten out who was who later – if they managed to communicate with the aliens somehow.  The lack of mouths made him doubt very much they would be speaking English.  Or speaking, period.

Still no response of any kind, unless blinking could be taken as an answer.

There was one alien standing slightly forward of the others, almost directly in front of him.  It might be the clan leader or it might be the local untouchable, but he had to start somewhere.  Taking a deep breath, he held one hand out toward it, not sure what to expect.

The gesture definitely produced a result.  The aliens pulled back a good ten yards in almost perfect unison – all but the one his hand was held out towards.  That one did just the opposite of its fellows and took a few tentative steps forward before pausing and tilting its head.

“It’s okay.  We mean you no harm.”  A stupid thing to say when the rest of the team was still pointing their weapons, but he’d learned to accept the necessity of using guns defensively, and sometimes even offensively.  He just hoped this wasn’t a case where either would be needed.

He held his hand out a little further and was rewarded by the alien very quickly closing the remaining distance.  It was roughly the same height as he was and stared directly into his eyes for several moments, enough to notch his unease up a couple of degrees.  Then it dipped its head and nudged its forehead up against Daniel’s hand, making him think of the way a cat butts up against a person when it wants to be petted.  He almost laughed in relief, but stopped himself, not wanting to startle the alien.

Okay, this was really weird, but hey, if head rubbing was the accepted form of greeting on this planet, who was he to criticize?  At least having to face just one of them at a time instead of the entire group was helping to keep his jitters under control.

He awkwardly patted the top of the alien’s head, noting that the skin covering the profusion of cranial ridges was smooth and cool, somewhat like a snake’s skin, but not segmented by scales.  Cold blooded?  He withdrew his hand and nodded at the alien as it raised its head and peered at him with what he would characterize as a quizzical expression, if the expression were on a human face.  He nodded again and smiled, then squelched the smile as it occurred to him that making a gesture the alien wasn’t physically capable of returning might be interpreted as an insult.

“Way to go, Daniel,” Jack muttered close behind him.  “I think you may’ve just picked up a new pet.”

Daniel briefly considered making a retort along the lines that maybe it was a pet with an appetite for smartass colonels, but he set the thought aside and concentrated on doing his job.  Communication wasn’t entirely limited to speech, after all, and he seemed to be making some kind of progress with gestures.  The alien was holding its hand – thin-boned, four-fingered and thumbless – out towards him.

Okay.  When on P453T9, do as the, uh, shiny green and brown aliens do.  He bowed his head and pressed it up against the alien’s outstretched palm.  It didn’t move its hand at all, and he was about to pull his head back when its long fingers stirred and slipped gently through his hair and over to the side of his head.  Its touch was cool against his scalp, soothing in a way.  His eyes closed, and he found himself leaning into the touch, feeling it joined by another set of fingers on the other side of his head.  So maybe there was something to be said about this form of greeting after all.  It was certainly very pleasant.

He frowned as it occurred to him that the contact could also be interpreted as intimate.  The thought startled him, and he began to pull away, only to feel the alien’s grip tighten on his head.  He carefully tried to tug himself away, hoping not to cause any offense, but now the alien’s fingers were digging into his scalp.  He didn’t recall seeing anything like fingernails, but that’s exactly what this new sensation felt like – sharp fingernails pressing into flesh.

“Uh, okay, you can let go now.  I think I’ve had enough.”  The pressure didn’t let up, though.  If anything, it increased.  In fact, it was getting painful.  He felt something warm beginning to drip down the sides of his head.  Panic bubbled up into the back of his throat, and he barely managed to keep his voice from cracking as he said very quietly, not wanting to agitate the alien and possibly cause himself further harm, “Jack?  Uh, do you think you could help me out here?  I seem to be stuck.”

“What do you mean, you’re stuck?”  On the surface, Jack’s tone was pure annoyance, but Daniel knew him well enough to sense the hint of apprehension underneath.

“It won’t let me go.  It’s digging its fingers into my scalp.  I–  I think I’m bleeding.”  He had to fight to remain calm.  If he lost it now, the entire situation could very easily degrade into something very… messy.

The sound of Jack’s rifle being cocked was accompanied by a firm command for the alien to back off.  It didn’t seem to be reacting to Jack, though, either to the sound of his voice or to the pointing of his rifle.  If anything, the pressure on Daniel’s head was increasing even more.  It felt like the alien’s fingers were somehow working themselves into bone.  Horrible pressure, with the sickening anticipation of an impending crack.

Daniel had thought it was only a simple greeting ritual.  His mind raced around theories, trying to decide if the alien meant to harm him, didn’t realize it was causing pain or had simply gone berserk.  The other aliens certainly weren’t making any move to stop it.  From what he could see with peripheral vision, they were still standing in their encircling mass, although now their heads were bowed, eyes turned to the ground.

“This is your last warning.”  Jack’s voice seemed somehow muffled to Daniel.  Must be because of the buzzing in his ears.  It felt like his head was being slowly crushed in a vice.  Any second now, his skull was going to crack, and there was nothing he could do about it.  His vision was beginning to blur.  Maybe he’d get lucky and pass out.

Abruptly, the pressure let up and the pain vanished.  “No, don’t shoot.  It’s okay now.”  The voice was his, but the impulse to speak definitely wasn’t.  There wasn’t anything even remotely okay right now, apart from the fact that the pain had stopped, and he wasn’t even too sure if that was necessarily a good thing.

He didn’t have the chance to wonder any further about what was going on, though, as an explosion of bright stars and darkness shorted out all five of his senses.


	3. Chapter 3

//Eyes.  Open.  Open eyes.//

//Different.  Strange.  Oddling.  Did not understand.  Open eyes.  Now.//

Daniel opened his eyes.  For a moment saw himself, lying on the ground next to a small campfire, a blanket tucked around his body, and then his field of vision tilted and flipped over.  He felt the rough prickle of the blanket against his hands and smelled the smoky scent of the fire before he realized he was staring up at the stars.  So many stars, brilliant, glimmering, so clear like the stars over the mountains in Colorado, like the stars over the desert on Abydos.

//Lines of fire, connecting the stars, tracing unfamiliar patterns, sinuous and jagged.  Lines of fire ripping down from the sky, from a dark shape skimming over the stars.  Lines of fire volleying back from the ground until the dark shape became a flaming negative image of itself.//

“Daniel Jackson?”

He shifted his head and blinked away afterimages of the flames – real or imagined?  Imagined.  Nothing there but the stars.  And nearer to the ground, on the ground, next to him – Teal’c.

“Daniel Jackson?  Are you well?”

Daniel Jackson?  Yes, that was him.  Daniel Jackson.  Daniel.

Was he well?  As in, okay?  All right?  In one piece?  He felt like he was drifting in a haze, his body numb and distant.  The image of himself from outside of his own body came again, accompanied by the echo of Teal’c’s voice saying his name.  Or _was_ it an echo?  The voice was not quite as deep, in a different timbre.  No, that was Jack, next to Teal’c now.

He closed his eyes again, trying to reconnect himself to his surroundings, his senses, his own body.

“C’mon, Daniel.  Open your eyes.”  The second voice again.  Jack.  Yes.  Jack.

//Yes.  Open eyes.//

//Sorrow.  Regret.//

Who was that?  He snaked his hand out from under the blanket, finding it difficult to get his arm to move.  He had to concentrate on a task that should’ve been mostly automatic, force the tendons and muscles to flex.  It felt wrong somehow, like he’d never moved his arm like that before.  The hand – _his_ hand – reached his chin, and fingers fumbled up the side of his face and into his hairline.  Something soft there, in among the matted hair.  A bandage.

//The top of a bowed head – his head – and long fingers embracing it.  Warmth, strength, the wet of blood against fingers – not his fingers.  A surge of exhilaration, fear, pain, confusion – a quagmire, sinking deep and fast, and the suns burning into the clouds.//

“Daniel, c’mon.  Stay with me here.”

Stay with who?  “What happened?”  Oh.  So that’s how talking worked.  He managed to wrench his eyelids open and blinked several times, his eyes sliding around trying to find something to fix on – something besides those goddamned stars.  Okay, a face.  That was good.  “Jack?”

“Yeah, it’s me.  Geez, you had me scared there.  I was beginning to think that thing really did suck your brains out.”

“No.  No.  I’m okay.  I just… have a headache.”  A bit more than that, really – disconnected, outside and inside of himself at the same time, a feeling of being two different places at once.  Jack would think he’d gone nuts.  Again.  No.  Jack hadn’t really and truly believed he’d been crazy that time.  So how would Jack deal with this?  Humor.  Worth a try.  “Maybe I should’ve kept my helmet on, huh?”

Jack stared at him for a moment.  And there was Teal’c again, standing up now, just behind Jack, gripping his staff weapon in the manner of a staff instead of a weapon, his head cocked to one side.  And Sam beside him, her eyes soft and her smile even softer.

“Hmm, yeah,” Jack finally said.  “I guess they’re good for more than playing ping-pong with your head against a big rock.”

//The blood.  The wall.  The message, renewed.  Birth by death.  Sacrifice and honor.//

“For crying out loud, Daniel, open your eyes!”

He didn’t even realize he’d closed his eyes again.  The images were so sharp and clear he could’ve sworn the outside world had metamorphosed right in front of him.  That was ridiculous.  He was just remembering the inscription back at the ‘Gate.  But it was somehow brighter, sharper, clearer than he recalled, the symbols fresh and glistening red instead of dull, dried brown.

There was a faint slap against his cheek.  There was very little feeling there, like he’d been out in the cold too long without a scarf.  But it was warm here.  In fact, it was very warm under this blanket, so close to the fire.  Somehow that realization imparted just enough momentum to sluggish senses to prod them back into their proper alignment.

Suddenly, inexplicably, he was angry.  Way too hot and pissed as hell.  And having no idea why he was angry only ticked him off even more.  He sat up, kicked and shoved the blanket off, stood up and almost stumbled into the fire.

“Whoa, Daniel, take it easy!”

He was sweating underneath that damn bandage, and his scalp was itching like crazy.  He yanked the wad of gauze off his head in one quick motion, wincing as tape and dried blood pulled away from skin and hair.

//No!  Do not!  Be calm!  All is well.//  The voice again, soft and gentle, insidious and omnipresent, like humidity slowly soaking into clothing, condensing and rolling in trickling rivulets down overheated skin.

“Would you please shut up and let me think straight for just a minute!”  The presence receded, abruptly, water gushing down an open drain.  But there was still a hint of it there, a subliminal hum.

“Okay, Daniel.  Make you a deal.  You sit down and let Carter bandage you back up again, and I’ll shut up.”

He felt exhausted all of a sudden.  Sitting down seemed like a very good idea.  He sank down right where he was, far enough from the fire that he could now tell the night air had actually taken on a chill.  He shivered as the sweat beading his face and the back of his neck cooled and evaporated, to be replaced by Sam’s hands, brushing through his hair.  He nudged her gently aside.  “No, it’s okay.  There’s no more bleeding.  And you don’t have to shut up, Jack.  I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Oh.  Okay.  Then who were you talking to?”  A hint of the O’Neill wariness was definitely present both in his tone of voice and in his expression, eyebrows lifted, lips pressed slightly together, the firelight throwing shadows across his eyes.

Daniel didn’t answer immediately, fixing his gaze on the fire, rubbing absently at the side of his head and feeling tender skin, but no blood – just knobby little bumps, like scars.  “I was talking to the alien – I think.  Maybe some kind of telepathic communication.  I keep seeing images, hearing a voice in my head…”  He trailed off and looked up hesitantly, afraid of what he might see in Jack’s face.  At least this time, there was some blatantly obvious evidence that something was wrong, and it wasn’t just in his head.

Jack was frowning at him, but there was none of that “walking on eggshells” brittleness that had been there during the all-too-recent visit to the loony bin.  There was caution, but it didn’t seem to be tainted by disbelief.  “Okay.  So unless you suddenly evolved to a higher plane and left the rest of us behind, I assume this has something to do with what that alien… did to you?”

“I think so.  God, I hope so, or you’re going to be marching me back to that padded cell.”  He barely managed to suppress a slightly hysterical laugh, turned it into a cough and a grimace.

Even though it was very soft, Sam’s voice startled him.  He’d almost forgotten she was sitting next to him.  “We’re not letting that happen again, Daniel.  We’re going to figure it out this time.”  She reached out to touch his arm, and even though he saw the motion before she made contact, he couldn’t keep himself from flinching.  He felt raw, edgy… violated.  He shivered and scooted a bit closer to the fire as she dropped her hand.  There was a moment of silence, then she asked, “Have you tried talking back to it?”

“No.  No, I haven’t.  I suppose I could try.”  He was reluctant to do so, though, and more than a little disturbed by the fact that he was unwilling to do what he normally did so well.  But then, communication had never before involved having his head skewered with eight very sharp and pointy fingers.  Being a linguist wasn’t supposed to hurt.  At least Nem had warned him before he agreed to have his brain turned inside out.

Jack squatted down on the opposite side of the fire.  “Okay.  How about you give it a whirl.  Try telling them that we’re leaving, and we’d appreciate it if they didn’t try to stop us this time.”  There was a definite edge of annoyance to his voice, maybe even worry.

“You mean you tried already and they stopped you?”  Well, of course the team would’ve tried to get back to the Stargate, to get him back to medical attention.  There had to be a reason why they were still here.

“Yup.”  Jack nodded.  “They did that Ghandi passive resistance thing on us.  Surrounded us and refused to budge.  And don’t think we didn’t try to push them out of the way.  They’re strong suckers.  Okay, so it took two of them to block Teal’c, but still – they outnumber us.”

“Your vital signs were stable,” Sam put in.  “Apart from being unconscious, you didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger.”  Her tone was apologetic, but he just waved a hand at her.

“Right.  I understand.  It’s okay.”  He took a deep breath and massaged his temples, studiously avoiding the area where the alien had touched him.  It wasn’t particularly painful any more, but feeling those bumps had given him a thorough case of the willies.  “All right.  Let’s see if I can get through to them.”

So how did one go about transmitting a telepathic message anyway?  Not exactly something he’d had very much experience with.  Like, exactly none.  His colleagues in the academic world may’ve branded him as a crackpot, but even he had limits as to what he’d give credence to.  That was a long time ago, though, and this… was a whole other world.  Literally.

He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind.  The images and words he’d sensed earlier flashed back into his mind, but he had the distinct feeling it was more like instant replay than a new communication.  The flames and the sorrow faded from his mind, and he opened his eyes to a much smaller fire, warm, flickering and softly crackling.  The whisper of a presence dusted lightly across his awareness.

//We are here.//

It felt like a feather was tickling the surface of his brain.  A chill ran through his entire body at the sensation, but he resolutely composed himself and tried to send back a question.  Will you allow us to leave now?  The only response he got was a muddle that was mostly made up of confusion.

He took a deep breath and tried again.  Still confusion.

//Silver eyes, blinking steadily.  A hand reaching out, two fingers very lightly pressing against his lips.  The sound of a voice – Goa’uld – yelling at someone to get up or die in the mud.  The sharp contact of a booted foot against already bruised muscle and bone.  A scarred and weather-beaten face branded with a golden tattoo, the skin smoothing and turning darker, melting into the familiar features of Teal’c’s face.  Uncertainty.  Fear?  His own face, his own voice, saying his name as he pointed at himself.  And the silence of the silver eyes.//

“Daniel?”  Sam was very gently shaking his shoulder.

He blinked, and the images skittered away.  “I’m okay.”  She wasn’t looking at him, though.  Neither were Jack or Teal’c.  They were all looking away from him, in different directions.  At the edge of the circle of light cast by the fire was another circle of shifting reflections – the gleam of skin over restless muscle and the flash of silver eyes.

They were back.

He realized they’d never left.  They’d been there the whole time, on the other side of the ridge, back among the trees.  Watching.  Waiting.  He was the focal point.

No.  He was one of a pair of focal points.  Jack had risen to his feet and was prowling slowly around the campfire, in defensive mode, but there, across the fire, in the exact position where he had been squatting just a moment earlier was the alien.  The other focal point.  All of the looming presence of consciousness out there in the shadows was focussed through it, held back by it, contained and restricted so that Daniel was only able to pick up faint impressions, like movement seen out of the corners of the eyes in a darkened room.

“I thought you were going to tell them we were leaving, not summon a congressional convention.”  Jack’s voice was as tense as the controlled glide of his footsteps as he approached Daniel and came to a halt.

“I tried, but I don’t think they understand words.”  He glanced at Jack, then turned back toward the lone alien by the fire.  One of its legs was bent upwards, like a human leg would be when its owner was kneeling, but the other leg was bent in the opposite direction, like the hind leg of a cat.  Its hands were splayed on the ground to either side, the fingers tense, the body poised, as if it were ready to spring.

“I thought you said you were talking to them before.”

“Yes, and I thought I heard words, but I think that might’ve been my mind’s way of translating what it was receiving into a form I could understand.  I tried sending words back to it, but all I got was confusion.”  He paused.  All the alien was doing at the moment was blinking at him, its head dipping first to one side and then to the other.  “They probably understand spoken Goa’uld and must have at least a rudimentary knowledge of written Goa’uld given the message by the ‘Gate, but obviously they don’t speak.”

“So tell them in Goa’uld that we’re leaving.”

“Uh, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea.  I think Teal’c’s already giving them the jitters, but they seem to be willing to give us the benefit of the doubt for the moment.”

“Okay.  Right.  So now what?”

Daniel thought about it for a moment, looked intently back at the alien’s blinking eyes, blinked several times himself.  He wasn’t getting anything at the moment, though – no pictures, no emotions, no words or thoughts that suggested words.  “Well, I’ve mostly been getting images and feelings.  Let me try that instead.”

He took a took a deep breath and tried to push everything he possibly could out of conscious thought, most especially the unspoken words that comprised a fair portion of those thoughts.  He formed in his mind a picture of the ‘Gate, himself dialing the DHD, the rest of the team waiting behind him, then all four of them crossing the event horizon.

//Tau’ri.  The symbol for Earth.  The ‘Gate turning to lock in the final chevron and the outpouring of light.//

Yes.  How to say “yes” without words.  A feeling of rightness.  Of home.

//Wind in the grass, sunlight warm on skin, rain soft on upturned faces.  The presence of others nearby, touching, contact of skin reflected in the mingling of thoughts.  Yes.  Home.//

“Daniel?”  He blinked.  Jack was waving a hand in front of his face.  “3T niner to Daniel.”

“Yes.  I’m here.”  He still felt halfway to somewhere else, but the chill stirring of the breeze in his hair and the warmth of the fire on his face helped to ground him.  “We can go home now.”

“So I gathered.  They’re gone.”

But they weren’t really gone.  They may have physically withdrawn, but they were still present in his mind.

//Sadness at departure, but joy at homecoming.  Music, singing, a thousand swelling raptures of sound.  Dancing, union, quicksilver movements illuminated by the moons.  And underneath it all, the impending presence of death.  And life.  Renewal.//

He listened in his mind as Sam gathered up the gear, as Teal’c extinguished the fire, as Jack led the way back to the ‘Gate.  Home.  That was important too.

* * * * *

Jack really didn’t like the feeling of being watched when he couldn’t detect the slightest sign of what was watching him.  It bothered him even more that he’d already seen what he knew was watching him and still had very little idea of what it actually was.  But what was really bugging him was the fact that Daniel was up and walking around – and _not_ talking.  Forget about walking and chewing bubblegum at the same time.  Daniel could walk, chew bubblegum and give a verbal dissertation at the same time.

He motioned for Carter to take the lead, then nodded at Teal’c to continue bringing up the rear as he fell in step with Daniel.  “Hey.”  Daniel nodded in acknowledgment, but didn’t reply.  “You okay?”

“Yeah.  Fine.”  Soft, distracted, then silence again.

“Feel okay?”

“Yes.  I feel fine.”

Gee.  Two whole sentences at once.  Well, a word and a sentence.  In a slightly annoyed tone.  Even by the pale light of the moons, Jack could see plain as day that Daniel’s thoughts were going a million miles a second.  “Hey.  Daniel.  How about trying to stay focussed here in case they try to stop us again?”

“They won’t.”  Not even a beat to think about it.  Just like that.  Took him more time to decide he was fine.

“Oh?  And how can you be so sure about that?”

“Free choice.”

Now why did he have to be so damn cryptic?  It wasn’t like they’d all been given membership in the mindreaders’ club.  Jack couldn’t keep the exasperation from edging into his voice as he asked, “And what does that mean?”

“Choices were something they didn’t have under the Goa’uld.  After they drove the Goa’uld away, they took it to the other extreme.  They didn’t want you to take me back through the ‘Gate without my choosing to go.”

“Well, that’s just dandy, but what about messing with other people’s heads without asking them first?”

“They couldn’t very well ask until they had a means to do so.  And I did make the offer, even if I didn’t completely understand what I was doing.  It’s okay.”

Jack wanted to tell him it damn well wasn’t okay, but he reigned in his anger and asked quietly, “You can still hear them, can’t you?”  Daniel didn’t respond, just kept walking steadily ahead, his eyes obviously only half-seeing what was in front of him.  This was definitely not good.  “Daniel?”

“Hmm?  Yes?  Oh, uh…”  He finally turned his head and looked at Jack with something approaching partial attention.  “Yes, I can still hear them.  Or rather, I can still hear _her_.  The one I made contact with.”

 _Whoa._   “Her?  How do you figure it’s a her?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  Just a feeling.  Some seem masculine, some feminine.  Could just be my impressions, though.”

“Oh.”  Jack tried to digest this new piece of information.  As long as Daniel didn’t start spewing some alien language and forget how to speak English, they could figure this thing out.  Although given what Daniel had said about the aliens not having a spoken language, he’d be more likely to clam up altogether.  Jack definitely didn’t want to be witness to that.  Yeah, there were times when he sincerely wished Daniel would shut the hell up, but to stop talking altogether?  That would be entirely too weird.

“Jack, this is incredible.  More than incredible.  It’s–  It’s–  Fantastic.  Amazing.  But that doesn’t even scratch the surface.”  Okay, this was more like it.  Running off at the mouth.  And he was waving his hands in front of him, using gestures to punctuate his words.  Good sign.  “There just aren’t any words to describe it.  Ha.  Well, of course there aren’t any words.  They don’t have words.  Jack, we really need to come back here after…  Why is it we’re going back to Earth anyway?”

“We just want to let Doc Fraiser have a look at you, okay?  Make sure everything’s still where it’s supposed to be.”

“Oh.  All right.  But then we need to come back.  This is like nothing I’ve ever seen or experienced before.  It’s an entire mental culture.  We didn’t find any signs of civilization because it’s all in their minds – music, history, philosophy, even something like – like – architecture, I think.  Like some kind of fantastic virtual reality.  I don’t know for sure.  It’s all in bits and pieces.  I’m only directly connected to one of them, but they’re, oh… ‘networked’ I guess is the word.  There’s patterns, chains and clusters – maybe their equivalent of a kinship structure, clans, tribes, that sort of thing.  They must not be born linked together, or else why have that ability to do that… thing… with their hands?  What she did to me.  Or maybe they’re born linked to their parents, and then they go on to form other bonds throughout life – friendships, matings, communal ties.”

“Hold on.  Wait a sec.  Back up.”  Daniel had been talking so fast it was taking a concerted effort for Jack to keep everything straight, but one word in particular stuck out for him.  “Did you say ‘matings’?”

“Yes.  I–  I–”  He paused for a moment, then said very firmly, “No.  That’s not what happened.  It wasn’t like that at all.”

Jack had the burning urge to make any of a dozen assorted rude and inappropriate remarks, but he bit his tongue.  Not the right time for an O’Neill slam-dunk.  He opted for reassurance instead.  “No.  No.  I’m sure you’re right.  Nothing like that.”  Christ.  Maybe those hands weren’t hands after all.

Thank God they were almost to the ‘Gate.  The sooner he could pass off this situation into the hands of someone much better suited to handle it, the better.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack yelled for a medic the instant his boots hit the ramp on the other side of the wormhole.

“Already on the way, Colonel,” the ‘Gate tech announced over the microphone.

Of course.  They were late and hadn’t reported in.  Standard operating procedure to call in a medical team.  It made him feel slightly better to yell anyway.

Daniel was turning back to face the ‘Gate, a distant expression on his face, so Jack quickly stepped over to him and touched him on the shoulder.  “You okay?”  Geez, he was getting sick of asking that question.

“I can still hear them.  Through the ‘Gate.”  He turned to look at Jack, his eyes sparking with excitement.  “Jack, I can still hear them.”  Then the event horizon disintegrated, and Daniel’s head snapped back.  His hand flew up to his temple.  “Oh.  Ow.  That didn’t feel very good.”  Jack was barely able to break his fall as Daniel collapsed onto the ramp, face up.  His body was rigid and his eyes were only half-open.

“Where’s that medic?”  This time, it didn’t make him feel any better to yell.  He knelt down by Daniel and gently shook him, repeating his name quietly and insistently.  No response.  “Hang in there, Daniel.  Help’s on the way.”  No sooner had he said it than Daniel’s eyes rolled backwards and closed completely, his entire body beginning to jerk in short, sharp spasms.

 _Shit.  Shit shit shit.  Okay.  All right.  Calm down.  You can deal with this, O’Neill._   “He’s having a seizure.  Teal’c, help me roll him onto his side.  Gently.  Okay, now back off.  Give him some room.  He’s safe enough right there.”

Jack shucked off his backpack and flak jacket, letting them tumble to the ramp, then whipped off his jacket and wound it up into a ball.  He gently wedged the wad of fabric under Daniel’s head.  Like the poor kid hadn’t had enough abuse for one day.  A slightly hysterical thought popped into his head that he should’ve made Daniel wear his helmet back through the ‘Gate.

As he stood up, helpless to do anything more now than wait, Fraiser hustled into the embarkation room, two orderlies with a stretcher behind her.  She was up the ramp to Daniel’s side and checking him over before she asked, “What happened?”

How to answer that one.  Direct and to the point was the only way he could think of to tackle it.  “Well, there was this alien that sort of… stuck its fingers… into Daniel’s head.”  Fraiser looked up at him, one of her hands resting lightly on Daniel’s still-twitching shoulder.  She blinked.  He shrugged.  “It was trying to communicate with him.  Succeeded, too.  He was picking up all kinds of… images and stuff.  Like telepathy.”  She didn’t say a word, just looked back down and ran her hands across the side of Daniel’s head, her fingers gently probing.

“There’s four keloid scars here in a row.”

“Yeah, it had four fingers on each hand.”  It all sounded so absurd.  It was.  This shouldn’t be happening.  He wanted to kick something, to hit something, maybe starting with that damn alien.  He didn’t care if it was a girl.

With one final shudder, Daniel’s body stilled and sagged into a rumpled heap.  Fraiser waved the orderlies in to roll him onto the stretcher, but she ran her hand down the other side of his head before they picked up the stretcher.  “Four scars on the other side, too.  Okay, I want the rest of you down in the infirmary to be checked out immediately.  I need to know exactly–”

“Doctor, he’s seizing again.”  The orderlies were setting the stretcher down on the floor and rolling Daniel back onto his side.  Jack squeezed his eyes shut.  He really didn’t want to stand by and watch that again.  He felt the cool stirring of air as Fraiser whisked away from his side, heard her ordering an injection of Ativan.  Someone touched his arm, and he jerked away as his eyes snapped back open.  Carter.  She looked worried.  Of course she was worried.  They all were.

“He’ll be all right, Sir.”

Jack stood there and watched while the injection took effect and Daniel’s body stilled once more.  Fraiser wasted no time in getting the orderlies to pick the stretcher up and herding them out of the embarkation room.  He didn’t respond to Carter’s attempt at reassurance.  He didn’t feel like he could honestly agree with her, but he didn’t want to tell her she was wrong, either.

* * * * *

This wasn’t a conference room.  It was another goddamned waiting room.  Jack threw his pencil down and got up to walk over to the window overlooking the ‘Gate.  Carter, Teal’c and Hammond were all staring at him, Teal’c with one eyebrow raised, Carter with a concerned frown on her face and Hammond looking like he was about to order him to sit down and stop pacing.

He couldn’t help it.  He’d spent an hour being poked, prodded and questioned by Doctor Warner, then another three hours in the infirmary waiting room with no news on Daniel’s condition apart from “we don’t know yet” from every passing medical staffer he’d managed to waylay.  He’d seen neither hide nor hair of Fraiser.  Still no sign of her, even though she was supposed to be here for the briefing.

No sign of SG-5, either, although he supposed no news just might be good news in that case.  Five had been saddled with a linguist fluent in Goa’uld and sent back to P453T9 to try and make contact with the aliens through “non-tactile” means.  At least they hadn’t been booted back through the wormhole.  Yet.

“Sorry I’m late.”  Jack whipped around from the window at Fraiser’s arrival.  She looked frazzled, her lab coat rumpled and her hair slightly mussed.  The earpieces of her stethoscope were still hooked around her neck, and she was clutching a stack of jumbled paperwork to her chest.  Oh, not good.  Not good at all.  He briefly considered remaining standing by the window, but Hammond was nodding towards his vacant seat.  Maybe it would be better to take this sitting down after all.

As he sank down into the chair and laced his fingers together, elbows resting on the table, Fraiser made an attempt to straighten the stack of papers, but quickly gave up.  She folded her hands and took a deep breath.  “We’ve managed to stabilize him… for the moment.  Since returning from P453T9, Doctor Jackson has experienced multiple seizures, regaining consciousness briefly between episodes, but he’s only been marginally lucid.  Medication has been largely ineffective, either not working at all or only alleviating the seizures temporarily.  We’re continuing to try different combinations of medication in varying dosages, and we’ll continue to do so until we’ve exhausted all non-surgical options.”

“Non-surgical?”  Jack felt the tendons in his hands tensing until he swore he could feel bone rubbing together.

Hammond looked briefly at Jack, then turned towards Fraiser.  “Is there a surgical option, Doctor?”

“Under normal circumstances, there might be.  Seizures are caused by abnormal electrical activity in the brain, either widespread or localized.  In some cases, when the abnormalities are localized and medication is ineffective, surgical removal of the affected tissue has been known to control the seizures.”

“Removal of–”  Jack’s voice caught in his throat.  “You’re talking about brain surgery.”

“Yes.  But in Doctor Jackson’s case, the affected areas are too widespread, across both hemispheres of the cerebrum.  Removal of that much tissue isn’t feasible.  He probably wouldn’t make it off the operating table, and even if he did, he’d most likely end up in a vegetative state.”

 _Christ almighty._   Words completely deserted him.  All he could do was lean back in his chair, staring at Fraiser as she gazed steadily back at him.

Carter picked up the ball.  “And what if the seizures continue?”  Jack wanted to curse her and thank her for asking the question.  He really didn’t want to hear the answer, but hiding from the truth wouldn’t change it.

“We’re looking at brain damage,” Fraiser said softly, “and eventually, death.”

No.  That couldn’t be right.  No options?  He refused to believe that.

The announcement of incoming travelers made Jack physically flinch.  SG-5?  Had to be.  There was no one else offworld right now.  He felt a sudden surge of hope even as his stomach twisted with nausea.  It was too soon for them to be back.  There’d been hardly enough time for them to hike to where the aliens were and back to the ‘Gate.

He was out the door and clattering down the stairs without so much as a single glance at Hammond for permission to leave.  As he hit the first landing, he heard more footsteps behind him – must be the others, following.  Of course.  They’d want to know right away too.

The faces of SG-5 as they filed down the ramp answered the question without Jack having to ask.  Failure.  Five’s leader confirmed it with a slight shake of his head.  “They refused to listen to us, Colonel.  Pushed us right back to the ‘Gate.  No injuries, but damn they’re strong.”

Damn was right.  Damn it all to hell.

The other members of SG-5 were avoiding Jack’s eyes, but their linguist walked up to him and saluted.  Jack just nodded in return.  “Lieutenant?”

“Sirs,” he included his CO in his nod, “there’s one other thing you should know.  Just as we were leaving, one of the aliens approached me and wrote something in the dirt in Goa’uld.”

Jack felt a jolt of impatience mixed with expectation flaring through him.  “And?”

“And nothing, sir.  It wrote the message, then backed away with its head bowed.  The message said, ‘Bring him back to me.’”

The expectation turned to anger, but he shoved it aside.  “Thank you, Lieutenant.  We’ll take that under advisement.”  As soon as SG-5 had filed out of the room, he muttered, “Oh yeah, right.  Like we’re just going to hand him back over to that – thing.”

“Sir…”  Carter was standing next to him, her calm and patient expression in direct contrast to the frustration churning in his gut.

He cut off whatever she was about to say.  “Those samples you took from the wall turned out to be blood, right?”

“Yes, there’s hemoglobin present,” she admitted reluctantly, “but it’s not human blood, and it’s not Goa’uld either.”

“Yeah, but maybe those aliens aren’t picky.  Who’s to say that they wouldn’t be more than happy to use Daniel for their next paint job?”  It was a big leap to an unfounded conclusion, but he didn’t feel much like being logical right now.

“Colonel.”  Now it was Fraiser’s turn.  Must be “gang up on Jack” day.  “We’re running out of options.”  Her voice gentled.  “This may be Daniel’s only chance.”

Hammond and Teal’c didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need any aliens messing with his head to know what they were thinking.  _Damn._   He didn’t like it, not one bit, but they’d been backed so far into a corner there was no other way out.  This might be a dead end too, but they had to try.

* * * * *

//The wall.  The blood.  Rebirth.//

//Sunlight.  Shining through spires of crystal.  Showers of rainbow reflections.  Lines of glittering light winding out through the night, touching mind after mind, binding them together, uniting them in a glorious whole.  A city of consciousness, spread across the dark hills, sparkling with life.//

Light.  There was light.  Soft, white.  Not warm.  Artificial.

//Breath, the winds through the grass.  Heartbeat, the warmth of the earth.  Blood, the suns in the sky.//

Breathing.  He was breathing.  And his heart was beating.  He could move, for the first time in all of the dreams.  Blinking.  Eyes – his eyes.  He could open his eyes.

“Daniel?”  There was that voice again.  What voice?  Whose voice?  A face, coming into focus.

“Sam?”

“Yes, Daniel, it’s me.  Jack and Teal’c are here, too.”

“Oh.”  There was something he was supposed to remember, something he had to tell her.  Oh, that’s right.  “Happy Birthday, Sam.”

She frowned at him, puzzled.  “It’s not my birthday, Daniel.  Not for two more months.”

“Oh.  But it’s someone’s birthday somewhere, right?”

“Yes.  I suppose so.”

Another face came into view, another voice.  Jack.  “It’s okay, Daniel.  The doc told us you’d probably be pretty much out of it.  You’ve been through a lot.”

“Mmm.  Tired.”

“Yeah, I guess you would be.”

His eyes slid shut, but Sam’s voice refused to let him rest.  “Daniel, before you go back to sleep, we need to tell you something.  We’re taking you back to P453T9.  It’s okay, though.  You’re going to be all right.”

“P4…”  What was it?  That wasn’t its name anyway.  It didn’t have a name.  It simply _was_.

“P453T9.  The planet where the alien made contact with you.”

Oh, right.  Her.  She’d been sorry to see him go.  He’d like to see her again, before the end.  “Okay.  That’s good.”  He drifted off, back to the dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

“Daniel Jackson?”

Whoa.  What a dream.  Aliens with silver eyes and long, pointy fingers, and oh what a lovely headache.  Daniel carefully sat up and opened his eyes.  Dark.  Cool breeze, warm fire, blanket.  “Teal’c?”

“It is I, Daniel Jackson.  We are back on P453T9.”

Back?  Not a dream, then?  “Is it your birthday, Teal’c?”

“Jaffa do not celebrate the anniversary of their birth, Daniel Jackson.”

Oh.  How strange.  He could’ve sworn it was someone’s birthday.  Somewhere…

“Daniel?  How do you feel?”  Janet?  Yes, kneeling down by his side, looking at him appraisingly.  And Sam and Jack, standing on the opposite side of the fire, both holding tin cups.  Coffee.  He could smell it mixed with the woodsmoke.

“Uh, okay, I guess.  I’ve got a headache.  And I’m really tired.  But otherwise, fine.  Why?  What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Going through the ‘Gate, back to Earth.  After she said goodbye.”  He hesitantly raised a hand to the side of his head and ran his fingers across his scalp.  Yes, the scars were still there.  Definitely not a dream.

//Blood.  Blood, nothing but blood.  The cry of a child being born, his own child into his own hands.  No, not his child.  The child of his wife, but not his.  Sha’re, her eyes shining in the lamplight, enticing him back to bed late at night when he couldn’t sleep.  Her touch, startling and warm against skin chilled by the night air, drawing him in, pulling his body against hers, urgent and yielding.//

“C’mon, Daniel.”  Jack was snapping his fingers in front of his face.  “This is what happened before.  He kept zoning out.”  Jack wasn’t talking to him.  Talking to Janet.

“It’s okay.  I’m okay.”

“You sure about that?”

 _That’s better.  Talk_ to _me, Jack, not about me._ “Yeah.  I’m fine.”

“You’re not going to wish me a happy birthday, are you?”

“What?  Your birthday was three months ago.  Why would I do that?”

“Well, you already tried to wish Carter a happy birthday, and you just asked Teal’c if it was his birthday.”

“I did?  Oh, yeah.  I guess I did.”

“So what’s up with that?”

“I don’t know.  I guess I’m just a little…”

“Out of it?”

“Yeah.”

//Children, dead on the hillsides.  Small silver eyes, dull and lifeless.  Mottled limbs, distorted, broken and tangled, the sheen of iridescence fading away.  And blood on the ground, soaking into the earth, running down the hills and into the valleys.  Weeping.  Grief.  Incredible loss.//

Sorrow flooded him, mixed with anger.  “My God.  The Goa’uld killed all the children.”  His voice was choked with bitterness, the tang of copper in his throat.  “Why?  Why would they do that?”

There was a trace of the same harshness in Jack’s voice as he answered, “They’re Goa’uld, Daniel.  What other reason do you want?”

“No.  No, that’s not it.  There’s something more to it.  Something about birth.  It’s not all about death.”  Understanding was just beyond his reach, taunting him, a silver wraith melting away into the night.

“You may be correct, Daniel Jackson.”

He looked up at Teal’c.  “What?  How?”  He had to know.  _Needed_ to know.

“There is a method of enslavement used by the Goa’uld, but very rarely, when a race cannot be subjugated by other means.  It is particularly effective among creatures such as the inhabitants of this planet, those who have solid ties to one another, strong bonds of kinship.  Their future as a race is compromised, first by the slaughter of the children, then by the sterilization of the adults, but in such a manner that they can be made fertile again with a dose of a certain compound.”

He felt the anger bubbling inside of him, hot and ruthless.  “And the Goa’uld keep the composition of this compound a secret?  Is that right?”

“That is correct, Daniel Jackson.”

“So, it’s like – like holding their unborn children hostage.  No offspring without Goa’uld assistance.  But Teal’c, there _are_ children here.  We didn’t see them, but they’re here.”  He knew that, felt it so deeply it was essential to him, like air and water.

//Yes.  We go on.//

Sam hunkered down on the other side of the fire and set her cup down.  “Maybe they found a way to synthesize the compound themselves.”

Daniel shook his head slightly.  “But how?”

//Through me.//

He jerked around and saw her standing there just beyond the firelight, her eyes gleaming softly with a reflection of flames.  She came forward with gliding steps, her feet silent against the earth, the grass hissing faintly where it brushed against her shins.  She knelt in the peculiar fashion of her people, at his side, only a small space separating them.  He was profoundly aware of her presence, both physically and mentally, like warm breath on skin and a whirring in his brain.

She slowly extended one long, slender finger towards the fire, stopping just short of the flames.  Her hand descended towards the ground, and she touched the bare dirt surrounding the fire.  She paused there a moment, her entire body still, poised, then her hand began to move.  She was writing something in the dirt.

Daniel leaned forwards, a flurry of excitement whirling through his chest.  Goa’uld.  This they had in common.  It had been a bond before any of their two peoples had ever met.  He cleared his throat and translated out loud.  “ _We found a way to make the substance of life here,_ ” she lifted her hand and ran her fingers down her other arm, “ _in our bodies, in our skin, under the light of the newborn sun._ ”  She paused, looked up from her writing, met his eyes.

“Of course!” Sam broke in.  “They don’t eat, do they Daniel?  I mean eat food, like we do?”

He shook his head, certain his answer was correct but not sure what it meant.

“Their skin reacts to the sunlight, like plants making their own food with chlorophyll.  They must’ve found a way to produce this ‘substance of life’ through some kind of photochemical reaction in their own skin, maybe by introducing something foreign into their bodies’ natural chemistry.  Like a living laboratory.”

Her voice was charged with the thrill of understanding.  He wanted so much to follow her there, but there was something else, another piece of the truth still missing.  He turned back to the alien.  She began to write again.

“ _This freedom is death for the one who undertakes it._ ”  His voice trembled a bit, but he drew a deep breath and went on.  “ _One makes the sacrifice so a whole new generation may be born.  One shares of herself, serves with her death, so that others may live.  I am that one for this generation of my tribe.  I have been anointed with the sacred herbs.  With the touch of the morning sun, I will die._ ”

She lifted her hand again, then leaned over and gently touched the side of his face.  Her fingers were cool, smooth, comforting, with a lingering scent that brought to mind a clear, crisp night in the mountains, frosty breath in the air.  He reached up and touched her hand with his own, but she pulled away and looked down towards the edge of the fire.  She smoothed her words from the earth and inscribed several more sentences.  Somehow, he knew this part was for him alone, so he translated it silently to himself.

 _I am sorry for the pain I have caused you.  I did not understand.  You are strange to us, but now you are a part of us.  If you are able to forgive me, I would wish you by my side in the morning, and we will make a new beginning._

She didn’t look at him again when she was done, just unfolded her legs, stood up and walked away, her movements accompanied by the gentle hiss-slap of tall grasses against skin.

Jack knelt down by the fire, squinted down at the final message, then peered at Daniel.  “What’s this last bit mean?”

“She wants me to be there tomorrow.  I think I should go.  I think… I need to go.  What other choice do I have?”

No one seemed to know what to say to that.  The silence was too much for Daniel to deal with right now.  He could handle a comfortable stillness, but this situation was so fraught with unspoken tension that his already frayed nerves were quickly becoming raw.  His sense of the aliens’ presence was now muted as their attention was focussed elsewhere, preparing for the dawn ritual.  He tried to find some distraction in wandering through that haze of dim thought.

//Soft touches, caresses, blessings and benedictions.  The sharp, pungent smell of something like mint mixed with pine.  Sorrow and regret tempered with pride, fierce and burning, hope and anticipation feeding the flame.  A chant, soft and insistent, a rhythm without words, rising on a slow and undulating crescendo.  Skin sliding on skin, smooth coolness tinged by faint warmth, blood thrumming underneath.//

He jerked back to awareness of his immediate surroundings.  The fire suddenly felt uncomfortably warm, and he could feel a flush creeping across his skin.  He stood up abruptly and turned away from the fire, wrapping his arms across his chest and walking quickly up onto the ridge.  The valley was filled only with gently stirring grasses and moonlight, but he knew they were there, over the next hill, among the trees.  He shivered, and tried to think of something – anything – else.

Jack came to his rescue, a steaming cup of coffee held out in his hand.

Daniel accepted it without saying a word, wrapping both hands around it, absorbing the warmth into chilled fingers – a safe, nondescript heat.  “Can I ask you a question, Jack?”

“Sure.  As long as you don’t ask me if it’s my birthday.”

Daniel had to smile a little at that.  “No.  No, nothing like that.  You’ve seen _Close Encounters of the Third Kind_ , right?”

“Yeah.  Of course.”

“At the end, when Roy goes with the aliens – if you were him, would you have gone?”

There was a beat of silence.  Daniel wasn’t quite sure what prompted him to ask the question, and Jack was probably trying to figure out where he was headed with it.  He finally settled on a straightforward answer.  “Nope.  Definitely not.”

Daniel wasn’t surprised.  In a way, he could see Jack going either way on this one, but “no” seemed to fit tonight.  “Why not?”  He wanted to take back the question as soon as he’d asked it.  Too vague.  Too psychoanalytic.  Sure to kill the conversation.

“Well…”  Jack paused.  Daniel couldn’t believe he might actually be considering tackling the question.  He really must be in a strange mood tonight.  Join the club.  “For starters, can you imagine trying to use an alien bathroom?  Not like there’d be bushes handy onboard a spaceship, either.”

Daniel actually laughed a little this time.  It felt good, liberating and somehow cleansing.  “I’m sure that a race advanced enough to develop interstellar space flight would be able to provide appropriate, um, ‘facilities’ for humans, Jack.”

“Sure, but that’s exactly my point.  That would be relying on someone else to provide something pretty dang important.  It’s that whole faith thing.  God will provide.  The aliens will provide.  I’m really more of a ‘God helps those who help themselves’ kind of guy.”

Daniel turned and stared at him, bewildered.  “You’re awfully philosophical tonight.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked the question.”  He gestured towards Daniel with his own cup of coffee.  “What about you?  Would you have gone?”

He considered for a moment, then said very quietly, “Yes, I would’ve gone.  I may actually get the chance, in a way.  I might have to stay here.”  He didn’t add the other thought he had, that staying or going might not matter and the only decision they would have to make after tomorrow was what to do with his body. Given his bond with the alien, when she died, what would happen to him?

“We’ll find a way to get you out of here, Daniel.”  His voice was firm, obstinate, brooking no argument.

For all that Jack’s stubbornness was usually a hindrance, right now, it seemed more of a blessing.  “Maybe.  Maybe not.  But it’s okay.  I mean, it’s not like I’d be completely cut off.  Not like you were on Argos.  You’d still be able to visit me.”  Daniel was fully aware he was steering the conversation away from that other possibility, but he felt the need to divert himself with tidy little illusions.

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be able to leave.  And don’t try and tell me it would be just like Abydos.  Apart from the fact that those people were – _are_ – human, you _chose_ to stay there.”

It hadn’t occurred to Daniel that this was anything like Abydos.  Certainly the planets looked nothing alike, and the circumstances were wildly dissimilar.  The question of choice, though, intrigued him, so he followed along where Jack was leading.  “But did I really choose?  What did I have to go back to on Earth?  I had no ties.  I was completely cut off.  And then we buried the Stargate.  I couldn’t leave.”  That finally had Jack backed up against a wall.  No snappy comeback.  He even looked a little stunned, like he’d never considered Daniel might’ve wanted some other option.  If he did.  He wasn’t sure.  “It doesn’t matter one way or the other, Jack.  That was the happiest year of my life, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”  And now he really had left Jack with no options.  He sighed.  “I think… I just want to be alone right now.  If you don’t mind.”

“No.  No, not at all.  Just… holler if you need anything.”

“Okay.  I will.”

* * * * *

And so Daniel was left in the middle.  Again.  He hadn’t belonged on Earth, and he hadn’t been a part of the Abydonian culture either, not in the way of someone born to it.  And now there was a circle of firelight behind him, his friends, his surrogate family, but he couldn’t be with them right now.

He was likewise separated from the others, out in the night.  At the moment, he couldn’t even hear the whisper of their thoughts.  Maybe that was because he didn’t want to hear.

Alone.  Not alone.  Half alone.  Always isolated.  As they all were, in some way.  No man is an island, but there are always borders, thin red lines… or threads of light in the darkness.

He didn’t hear her approach, but was keenly aware of her presence as she lowered herself to the ground next to where he was sitting, folding her legs into some kind of distorted lotus position.  There was a stirring in the air as she moved, carrying with it the astringent scent of mint and pine.  Clean.  Pure.  Wide as the night sky, but close enough to touch.  He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

And realized that she was alone too.  There were no thoughts there but her own, no echoes of the others through her.  In the silver light of the moons, he could see whole new patterns of knobby flesh laid out across her skull, where the others had touched her, said their farewells, and left her alone in her own mind for quite possibly the first time in her life.  Alone but for himself.  It dawned on him that even as he didn’t have their ability to willfully join in communion, he also couldn’t purposely sever the connection.  He had no choice.

//Sad.//

“I know.”  The words came out without thinking.  He repeated them in Goa’uld, saw and felt her flinch away.  The sound was as offensive to her ears as it was to his.  He tried instead to send her a feeling of empathy, of comfort, but it was all inevitably tinged with sadness – his own and a reflection of hers.  There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so much he wanted to understand, but his grasp of their method of communication was still poor and inadequate, not precise enough for what he wanted to know.

//Frustration.//

“Yes.”  God.  He was so tired, bone- and mind-weary.

No, wait.  There might be a way.  She had written in Goa’uld.  That must not be as distasteful to her as actually hearing the words spoken.  He had to agree with her there.  It was much easier to isolate the words on a page, forget where they came from, focus solely on their meaning and not be distracted by unpleasant memories.

He looked around – no bare earth here – then fumbled in his jacket pockets, finally found a notepad and a pencil.  Her puzzlement came to him as a sharp but not unpleasant prodding as he wrote.  He muttered, “All right, all right.  I’m hurrying.”

The moons were providing a good deal of light, but he still had to squint to see.  He held the notebook out to her.  _What do you need me to do?_

She looked at the page for a few seconds, then looked up at him briefly before taking the paper and pencil into her own hands.  Not having a thumb, it took her a moment to position the pencil so she could write.  She opted for encircling it with all four fingers in a kind of fist.  She wrote very slowly, slightly adjusting the grip of her fingers as she went.  _You forgive me?_

He started to write _of course_ , then paused.  Why would she have to ask that?  Couldn’t she tell?  Forgiveness was akin to an emotion, and he was having no problem communicating feelings.  Or was he?

No, she was reading him perfectly.  He _was_ angry at her for what she had done to him.  But as soon as he acknowledged the lingering hostility and saw where it came from, it began to melt away.  She had meant no harm.  He knew that – had known it already – but knowing and accepting were two entirely different things.  Now maybe he could begin to truly understand.

He tried to frame another question, but they were unaccountably all gone.  Flown away.  Not important any longer.  She took the pencil from him and wrote, _The dawn approaches.  It is time._


	6. Chapter 6

The wall again.  Daniel hadn’t noticed before that it paralleled the horizon where the suns would rise and that the first light of day would pass through the Stargate to illuminate the face of the wall.  At some point in the past, the aliens must’ve repositioned the ‘Gate.  The arrangement was too perfect to be coincidental.

She led him around the wall and to the ‘Gate, and as if by some unspoken agreement, her people ranged themselves to one side while SG-1 and Doctor Fraiser took up positions on the other.  One by one, Daniel met the gazes of each of his friends for an almost unbearable moment.  He didn’t need to be able to read their minds to know they were feeling the same thing he was – an awful, agonizingly hopeful ache.

He turned away from them and took his place at her side, this alien without a spoken or written name, only the essence of her being declaring who she was.  Their backs were to the wall, the ‘Gate in front of them, and the sky was beginning to show the first pale signs of dawn.

A thin, reedy whisper of a voice filtered into his mind.  The words were Goa’uld, but the sound of the voice was so different from a Goa’uld’s it may as well have been speaking another language entirely.

// _Now is the time when I must choose my mate.  A symbolic mating only.  One to stand by me through the burning of the first rising sun and the shedding of blood until I am gone.  Until new life begins.  I would have that one be you.  It is not a true choice since I do not know how to unbind you from me, but still I must ask._ //

He spoke his answer aloud – not trusting his mind to accurately convey what he wanted to say – but softly, to bring what gentleness he could to the harsh sound of the words.  “ _It is a choice because you have asked.  I would be honored._ ”

// _There is something else you must know.  If you consent to stand with me, you must be the one to shed my blood._ //

The revelation should’ve been a shock.  He should be wanting to refuse.  But somehow he knew already, and knew it was all right.  “ _Yes.  I will stand with you.  Tell me what to do._ ’’

// _You have not the strength of our hands.  You must use that which makes your hand stronger._ //

She pointed towards his thigh, to the knife he had asked Jack for before they had departed their campsite, not consciously certain why he needed it – the knife Jack had given with hesitation, but without question.

He suppressed a shudder.  No.  He couldn’t.  Not like that.

But he had to.  For her, to set her free.  It was too late for her.  No way to stop the suns from rising.

She drew her hand back, extended one finger and slowly pulled it across her shoulder, midway between the base of her neck and the first joint of her arm.  // _Here.  Just after the sunlight touches me._ //

He swallowed, almost choked on dryness.  He nodded.  “ _I understand._ ”

She reached out and laid her hand against his cheek as she had done by the fire.  // _Yes.  I believe you do understand._ //

And then the edge of the first sun erupted from the horizon, sending red-gold rays of light stabbing out across the hills.  Her body jerked and her hand pulled away.

//Screaming, weeping, wailing.  Fire, searing through skin, tearing into muscle, bleeding into bone.//

He gasped as sharp edges of pain sliced through the barrier she was trying to hold between herself and him.  Trying to spare him the brunt of the agony.  Alone in her suffering.

Alone, alone, always alone.

He could end it.  He had given her his word.  Her eyes were pleading, her limbs quivering as a madly twisting pattern of deep crimson swirled across her body, just under her skin.

Without thought, lightning quick, the knife was in his hand and lashing out towards her, ripping swiftly across her shoulder.  The skin parted, peeling back, and a river was born.  Life.  Death.  If only it were oblivion, the river of forgetfulness – Lethe.  He didn’t want to remember this, but he knew he always would.

//Light.  So much light.  Brilliant, blinding, so painful it was joy.  Swelling, throbbing, until nothing was left but the light.//

And then it was gone.  She was gone.  Her body crumpled, fell.  No breath, no heartbeat.  Abrupt silence.  Emptiness in heart and mind.

A sickening sweet smell rose to his nostrils.  Blood pooled around his feet, embracing her body, smeared across the fading luminescence of her skin.  Light flashed across the still surface of a steaming lake of death, framing her face in stark counterpoint.

Two of her people came forward and gathered up the voided shell of what remained, reverently folding the lifeless limbs close to the motionless torso, then bore her through the throng of glistening bodies, full of motion, full of life.  They reached out to touch the empty, lifeless husk of her, then in pairs they came forward to the wide, shallow depression in front of the Stargate.  They dipped their hands into the liquid cupped there, then turned towards one another and carefully drew dark stains down the ridges on the sides of their heads and onto their shoulders, down to the point where he had drawn the knife across her shoulder.  Fingers pressed hard, penetrated, and a tangle of scarlet blossomed, spread down their bodies, out into their limbs – an urgent infusion of transient fruitfulness.  Like the floodwaters of the Nile, born in springtime fury, but bearing the alluvial soils of fertility.  Enough to bring the next generation forth upon the land.

Then they turned towards the wall, side by side, one pair of arms twining together between them and the outer set of hands meeting to trace the shape of a glyph.  Renewing the message, symbol by symbol.  Reigniting the hope.  Carrying on.  As life always carried on, even in the face of death.  In mated pairs, they departed, leaving this place of death behind and returning to the green and living world, to complete and celebrate their joining.

He was dimly aware of the touch of hands on his back and shoulders, of something being pulled from his numb fingers.  He wanted to scream.  He wanted to weep.  He wanted to close his eyes and make it all go away.  But he couldn’t.  It had happened, and it would never, ever go away.

There was a prick against his arm, a slight burning, a soft voice, and then he was alone in the silence of his mind.

* * * * *

When he opened his eyes again the next day, he was in the infirmary back at the SGC.  Every muscle, bone, and joint in his body seemed to have its own dull ache, but his memory was surprisingly sharp and clear.  Much too clear.

There was nothing he could’ve done to change it.  By the time she had told him what was going to happen to her, it was too late.  Her death was her choice, willingly accepted.  He would have to accept it as well.  He would choose to do so.

He wasted no time in insisting Janet release him from the infirmary.  Physically, he was fine.  Everything checked out.  The scars were still there, but she told him they were only on the surface.  If only that were true.

He also took the opportunity to ask her about the possibility of synthetically creating what the aliens needed to reproduce, so that no more of them would have to die to undo what the Goa’uld had done to them.  Of course she’d already thought of that and had brought back a sample of the blood for analysis.  She told him it might take time, but they would do their best.

As soon as he got dressed, he headed for the surface.  Far too many halls and stairways and elevators.  He felt a bit lightheaded when he finally made it.  Just hunger.  He’d get something to eat later.  Right now, he needed to feel the earth under his feet and the sun and wind on his face.

He hiked a short distance from the base entrance, up a slope, far enough that he had a clear view of the mountains.  It was just past noon, and there were only a few stray wisps of cloud in the sky.  As perfect as a Colorado summer day could get.  He sat on the ground in the sweet-smelling grass, wrapped his arms around his knees and closed his eyes.  The warmth of the sun seeped into him, soothing the aches in his body, lulling his mind into a drowsiness devoid of thought.

He felt a slight compression of air that wasn’t a natural breeze, opened his eyes and squinted up at Teal’c.  “Hi.”

“Hello, Daniel Jackson.  It is good to see you ‘up and around.’”

“It feels good to be up and around, Teal’c.  Actually, it feels pretty good just to sit here, too.”  And not think.  Not remember.

“May I join you?”

“Sure.”  He scooted over slightly even though there was plenty of room on the slope, and Teal’c settled himself on the ground in one fluid motion.

They sat together in silence for a few moments, and Daniel was just beginning to drift off again when Teal’c said, “There is something I would like to ask you, Daniel Jackson.”

He reluctantly drew his attention back to the here and now.  “Sure.  Go ahead.”

“This ‘birth day’ that humans celebrate.  What does one do when one does not know the exact date of his birth?”

“You don’t know when you were born?”

“Not precisely.”

“But you know how old you are.”

“Yes.”

“So how do you figure your age?”

“All Jaffa count their years of life according to the anniversary of their Goa’uld master’s first joining with a host.”

“Oh.  Well, I can see where you probably wouldn’t want to count by that anymore.  You could just pick a day, maybe one that has some kind of significance for you personally.”

Teal’c was quiet for a moment.  “Then my ‘birthday’ will be the day that I turned on Apophis.  It was then that my life truly began.”

Daniel nodded.  “That’s a good choice, Teal’c.”  He paused, did a quick calculation.  “Wait a minute.  That’s today.”

“It is indeed.”

“Happy Birthday, Teal’c.”

“Thank you, Daniel Jackson.”

Daniel smiled and turned his face back to the sun.  He would remember.  He would choose to do so, willingly.  He would always remember, and every year on the day she had died, no matter where he was, no matter what alien sun was rising over the horizon, he would sit and feel its warmth and think of her.

* * * * *

But when the sun in all his state  
Illumed the eastern skies,  
She passed through Glory’s morning-gate,  
And walked in Paradise.

– James Aldrich, _A Death-Bed_

* * * * *

The End


End file.
